


Night Moon

by TheRicardianEmpress01



Category: RPF - Fandom, The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt, finn wolfhard - Fandom
Genre: Boris Pavlikovsky pops in for added wtf moments, Clowns, F/F, F/M, Female Homosexuality, M/M, Male Homosexuality, New Mexico, RPF, Vampires, everyone IS consenting, everyone is 18+ so, finn has been aged up quite a bit here, finn is defo the narrator of all this, he's totally a central character here, luna verdi, night vail, or...is it boris?, russian vampire that glows, slavic androgynous bette davis, wait boris pavlikovsky does more than pop in, weirdshit going on at every turn, who actually is telling this story?!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-08 16:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRicardianEmpress01/pseuds/TheRicardianEmpress01
Summary: Finn Wolfhard.He's a carnival sideshow with killer beauty.He also loves to weave a killer story.But everything he's told you......is a lie.





	1. Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> This is straight up fiction. If you are easily offended, overly sensitive etc, etc...get off this fic wreck now. You've been warned.
> 
> Everyone is 18+ in this. Yes, that includes Finn. Again, you've been warned.
> 
> I wrote this for my daughter at her request. She came up with the original prompt, so this is for her...and her undying love for Finn Wolfhard.
> 
> Speaking of her and her prompts...
> 
> She asked for another fic wreck that involves:
> 
> 1)Finn Wolfhard/Vampires*
> 
> *the glowing, stay the fuck out of the sun even though you're in the desert for fuck's sake, here's your flipping umbrella baby, he's definitely NOT one of those idiotic, sparkly so-called "vampires" from Twilight, because he's our Slavic Androgynous Bette Davis Scream Queen Russian Vampire that Glows and knows what you're afraid of so don't bother with the fucking lights because they won't save you kind of vampire, damnit!
> 
> Guess WHO just flipped this entire fucking story?!
> 
> Beep, beep motherfuckers.

19th October, 11:55 p.m.

Dear Diary(wow, middle school much? Sheesh.)

Start again, shall we? 

Indeed.

Anywho, dear diary…

Today is the 19th day of October.

(So far so good, you idiot)

It’s just before midnight here in Las Vegas and, of course, yours truly is wide fucking awake.

Nothing new there, really so…

So, about two hours ago, I made a complete and total idiot of myself in front of the most beautiful guy in the world. And, I mean he’s the most beautiful. Like seriously, the drop dead gorgeous kind of beautiful. The kind of beautiful…

Ah sorry, waxing poetic again.

So yeah, two hours ago…

Me, Mama(Micah...my deliriously weird drag queen protector etc, etc), Remy, Caro and Dodge, sashayed our creepy asses up to the Haunted Manor Houses tour(in the flipping desert, no less)dressed to the nines in our best every day attire.

(Just how much black can one wear in the fucking desert?)

And by best every day attire, I mean, our version of what that means. Which, in our case, means we’re a walking group billboard for Hot Topic meets the Addams Family meets rich, wrong side of Vegas glitterati.

Micah...6’ 4” drag queen with no time for bullshit, that dresses very much like Morticia Addams fell into a box of melted crayons, then was hauled out and dusted with black and red glitter. Wears stripper heels. Did I mention, she’s 6’4”? We call her Mama. She protects us from unwanted attention from unwanted suitors(and normal people). But mainly, she protects us from our own stupid selves. That’s a full time occupation with no hazard pay whatsoever.

Remy...a 5’8” beauty who used to be male, but transitioned to female about four years ago. My bestie since we first met back in first grade all those many years ago. Dresses like a cross between Lily Munster and Eleven from Stranger Things(all three seasons to be exact), who might also have fallen into that aforementioned box of melted crayons. But, with less glitter. 

Caro...wishes to remain anonymous. What I can tell you...she was voted most likely to steal your dad from your mom. Would steal your mom, too. Nerd. No glitter.

Dodge...aka, The Artful Dodger. Can steal anything, from anywhere and from anyone. Without getting caught.  
Gay as fuck. Dresses like Klaus from The Umbrella Academy. Owns comic book of the same name. Probably modelled himself after Klaus. Is a 5’10”, blue eyed, dark haired asshat. We keep him around because we need shit, and he can get the best shit ever. Once shoplifted an entire tub of glitter from a local craft store. For the hell of it.

And that brings this rundown to me…

I’m Ivy Rose. I’m a 5’4” Princess. Not really, but that’s what Micah calls me, so that’s who/what I am. My look is Victorian Steampunk, that may, or may not have, wandered cluelessly through that melted box of crayons, and hooked an even more clueless left turn at the stripper pole. I have numerous piercings, a few are even visible. The rest? Well, the only ones who’ve seen those, is the guy who did the piercing, Mama and Remy. 

Ahem…and, my Master

I also have a couple tattoos. Enough said on that.

I mentioned I’m only 5’4”tall, yeah?

Yeah, so I wear six inch, spiked(or chunky...just depends on what I feel like wearing) stripper heels that bring me up to roughly about 5’10” on a good day. I have emerald green eyes and long black/burgundy wine coloured hair, and I’m 18 years old. I like my glitter. Alot. 

Oh, and I have one huge weakness.

Like it’s gignormously huge.

This huge weakness has a name.

It’s the reason I made a complete and total idiot of myself two hours ago.

Finn Wolfhard.

Like seriously the most beautiful guy in the entire world.

And my fucking kryponite.

My huge weakness.

Who knew he would turn out to have a few secrets…

(Probably shouldn’t have gone out tonight)

I never knew Finn was into that.

(Should’ve stayed home)

God, I’m an idiot.


	2. Road.Trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge smut fest here. New characters have joined the carnival! Oh, and if it isn't clear by now...this takes place in Vegas.
> 
> Sensitive? Easily offended? President of the Finn Wolfhard Fan club? Finn Wolfhard, is that you? 
> 
> If you answered yes to any of these questions...
> 
> ...get the fuck off this fic wreck now! 
> 
> You've been warned.

18th October, 1:30 p.m. Los Angeles

“Road fucking trip!!”

It was announced like a rather bizarre sporting event, complete with flapping arms, whooping from the rest of the assembled(all two of them) and, equal amounts of what the fucks and hell yeses.

“Roadtrip!” Jack, as in Jack Dylan Grazer, chortled again happily from his spot on one of the hotel beds. 

Across the room, seated at the table, was Noah Schnapp. He laughed as Jack flapped his arms excitedly at the prospect of said roadtrip. It was, in Noah’s expert opinion, like watching a fish flopping around on the ground, albeit a fish with arms instead of fins, but funny as fuck regardless.

“Where we going?” Noah asked.

Jack grinned.

“I figured, since we are so close to Nevada, we’d head to Vegas.”

“And, do what, exactly?”

“See the sights.”

“None of us are old enough to see any sights there, Jack. Except the sky, all of the desert, and maybe a restaurant or several.”

Jack turned to the other occupant of his bed, grinned wickedly and tugged the not very unwilling, voice of funkilling, to him.

“Finnie, really! There’s plenty we’re old enough to see!”

“Oh?” Finnie, or rather, Finn Wolfhard, asked while snuggling closer to Jack. One long, lone lock of dark, curly hair fell over his left eye.

Jack grinned, hugging Finn closer.

“Yes. It’s October.”

“Yeah, it is.” Noah got up, nearly falling over a travel bag left on the floor, and flopped down on the other bed. “What about it?”

“It’s. October.” Jack eyed Noah for a moment. When the spiky haired blonde didn’t answer, he rolled his eyes at him. “For fuck’s sake! October! What happens in October?!”

“Halloween.” Finn mumbled softly. His head rested between the crook of Jack’s neck and his shoulder, a slight smile tugged at his plump, pale pink lips. He was breathing in his friend’s scent as if it were an aphrodisiac, and he needed it to survive.

Jack nodded happily.

“Yep, Halloween. That’s my baby.” He leaned down and kissed Finn lightly.

Finn purred softly against Jack’s lips, snuggling closer.

Noah turned over on his side and stared at them. He’d always known there was something very different about Finn Wolfhard, but for a long time, he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly that difference was. It finally became clear, during the filming of season two of Stranger Things(and about the time Finn started filming the movie It, with Jack), when little things seemed to pop out of nowhere at him. Some of Finn’s gestures, the way he moved, even his way of carrying himself suggested…

And, of course, the kissing scene with Millie…

Noah had tried chalking the awkwardness, and lack of kissing skills, up to Finn never having kissed anyone in his life. After all, they were all pretty young, and hadn’t much romantic life experience. Yet, and here Noah had tried again to explain it away, despite the awkwardness of it, Finn had kissed Millie with gusto...looking, and Finn had explained it that way numerous times, himself, like he was going to eat her.

And then, there was the modeling.

What male model looks like that?

Long, dark curly hair...that normally was a wavy hot mess...yet…

Every time they made public appearances...awards shows, premieres, etc…

Every one of them looked absolutely dull in comparison to Finn. No matter what he was attired in, he looked beyond beautiful. Not handsome…

Beautiful.

That long dark wavy hair, became a long, dark, silky, curly hot mess.

Was that a candy pink lip gloss? Or, were his lips always that pretty?

And those eyes...those big, beautiful dark chocolate eyes...with those long, equally dark lashes. They always made him look like he was wearing eyeliner or mascara. Both, really.

When he looked at you with that hot as fuck smoulder…

Not to mention the pout he could do.

Or, when he gifted you with that gorgeous(even though Finn joked that he looked like the frog emoji when he smiled)full smile...it gave you the wobblies. When that delightful laugh came with it…

Noah shook his head to clear those thoughts of Finn from his mind. He didn’t need to be thinking this way about his friend, and co-star, in this manner.

“Yeah? Well Will Byers would most certainly want to be thinking about Mike Wheeler in that way. “

Wait, what?

“Ok, so what can we see in Vegas, that we can’t see here in L.A.? Halloween related, that is.” Noah asked quickly before his mind conjured up another mental thought.

Jack was stroking Finn’s hair slowly, curling strands of it around his fingers. He kissed the top of the young man’s head, and grinned.

“I’m glad you asked, Schnapp! I inquired of the Vegas tourism board, and it would seem, that they have something called the, Haunted Manor Houses Tour, and it goes for about two and a half miles out into the desert. I figured we could give that a try, see what the whole deal is about.”

“That, uh, sounds like fun.” Noah grinned. “Did you say it’s in the desert?”

“Yeah. Goes for approximately two and a half miles out into the desert. Why do you ask?”

Noah groaned.

“We’re going to die, that’s why.”

Jack laughed at this.

“Nah, totally won’t die.”

“It’s like one hundred and ten degrees in the fucking shade!” Noah hissed.

“Drink lots of water…”

“He’ll melt for fuck’s sake!” Noah pointed at the half asleep Finn. “Do you want him to melt? Because that’s what happens to people like Finn who end up in the desert! They melt like a popsicle.”

“I, uh...well no…” Jack sputtered out.

“And, he’s delicate. Like a flower. You stick him out in the desert and he’ll wilt…”

“And, burn, don’t forget I’d probably burn.” Finn yawned and rolled away from Jack.

“Right, he’d also burn...wait, hold up…” Noah eyed Finn curiously.

Both Jack and Finn looked at him.

“Wasn’t the Vegas bit from The Goldfinch filmed in a desert location?”

Finn nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Where? Vegas?”

“New Mexico mostly. But some bits were in Vegas.”

Jack laughed.

“I saw the trailers where you and Oakes were strolling up the dirt road in the middle of the day while the sun blazed overhead…”

“I had an umbrella.” Finn reminded them.

“Wasn’t it black?” Noah asked.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Uh-huh, good idea. Except black absorbs the light and heat. A white umbrella would’ve reflected it back, not absorbed it.”

“Thanks for the science lesson, Mr. Grazer.” Noah shook his head at him.

“Glad to be of service.” He turned his attention to Finn, who had rolled further away from him, and was now hugging the edge of the bed. “Why you all the way over there, baby?”

When no answer was forthcoming, Jack slid himself over behind his lover, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Finn muttered faintly.  
“Huh?” Jack leaned in closer to Finn’s face. “What was that?”

“Sounded like he said fucking clowns.” Noah stared at the ceiling. “At least, that’s what I think I heard him say.”

Jack sat up, his arm still draped over Finn, and studied him for a moment. 

“Finn?”

“What, Jack?”

“Did you say something about clowns?”

“Maybe.” Finn pushed Jack’s arm away.

Jack groaned.

“Oh great, here we go.”

“Here we go? What’s that supposed to mean, Jack?” Finn slid off the bed and onto the floor. He sat there, his back to the bed, and to Jack.

“Oh my god, Finnie!”

“Fuck off, Jack.”

“Finn…”

“Screw you.”

“Jesus Christ, Wolfhard, I was joking!”

Finn got up from the floor, shook his head at Jack, and retreated into the bathroom, slamming the door hard behind him.

Jack looked pleadingly at Noah for help.

“Sorry, can’t help you with this hot mess.”

“Fucking hell!” Jack hissed. 

For a long time, neither Noah or Jack said anything. The room was quiet, except for the occasional ping of one of their phones.  
Noah, however, being on the bed closest to the bathroom, could hear what Jack could not. The soft sound of sobbing from behind the closed door. 

That was another thing that had become clear to Noah...Finn could cry at the drop of a hat. He wore his heart, as well as his emotions on his sleeve, and oftentimes he’d go off by himself and have a good cry. He didn’t think any of the others knew, but they did. They all did. Perhaps it was the anxiety, or maybe, Finn was just emotionally high strung? 

Whatever the reason, Noah lay on the bed, listening to his friend crying his heart out in the bathroom, and felt utterly helpless.

“There’s always clowns in haunted houses.” Jack broke the silence.

“Yeah, true.” Noah yawned.

“And, I know he’s afraid of them…”

“Yet, you still figured going to several haunted houses, where there are probably going to be clowns, was a great idea.”

“It was at the time.” Jack mumbled.

“Not your best idea.”

“No, I guess not. But damn it, I’d be there with him! He wouldn’t be going into it alone.”

Noah chuckled softly.

“Eddie and Richie all over again.”

Jack sighed.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Except, it’s Eddie protecting Richie, not the other way round.”

“Sounds good to me.”

A lengthy silence followed this. Noah turned his head and looked at the prown form on the other bed.

“Jack?”

“Yeah, Noah?”

“He’s in there crying. Has been for awhile now.”

“Oh…” Jack closed his eyes, rubbing at them with the back of his hand.

When had this idea for the perfect road trip...this perfect, fun filled long week with a close friend(Noah), and the love of his life(Finn), suddenly turn into a total trainwreck? 

Oh, but he just had to decide on something that scared the hell out of Finn...that often gave him nightmares. Nightmares that had him thrashing about in bed...slamming his tightly balled fists into Jack’s increasingly bruised chest, and sobbing once he woke,clinging to Jack as if he were drowning.

And yet…

Jack rolled his eyes at how stupid he had become.

He listened to Noah playing on his phone, sighed deeply, and rolled over to face the bank of windows opposite the bed. His mind began to wander aimlessly.

The very first day Finn had walked onto the set of It…Jack thought he’d seen heaven that day.

How he wanted to know…

Wanted to feel that heaven against him.

But, Finn had no time for Jack, and though they quickly became friends, it was painfully obvious to Jack, that Finn’s interest lay elsewhere.

Jaeden for example. 

That was crystal clear. They seemed to always be curled up together...Finn usually perched on Jaeden’s lap, their foreheads touching, Jaeden’s arms wrapped awkwardly around Finn’s small waist, laughing at some inside joke. They shared stolen kisses, held hands with no care in the world who saw them doing so, and if Jack was not mistaken, and he had found out later that he hadn’t been, they had gone all the way. Not once, not twice, but at least four times.

That, was Finn’s first mistake.

Of many.

Until one day, Jaeden was no longer Finn’s obsession. Jack had watched this new development with increasing hope, and just a little bemusement that was tinged with anger. What had started as a quasi-romance between the two, suddenly devolved into shouting matches(always heated and nasty to hear), accusations of cheating(probably true, but as Jack reasoned, not on the part of Finn...that lay squarely with Jaeden) and numerous bouts of incoherent sobbing(Finn) and, again Jack reasoned, unnecessarily cruel remarks about Finn’s looks from Jaeden after one particularly nasty fight. It was the first of many times, that Jack would want to smash someone’s face in for hurting Finn. 

It would not be the last.

Eventually, Finn had lost interest in trying to win Jaeden back, and instead, had lost himself in the role of Richie Tozier. He had revelled in the role of the trash talking loud mouth jokester...had…

Until the day he had to deal with clowns.

That day was the worst.

Jack had found Finn in the one of the trailers, sobbing and shaking…

It made him want to smash in the director’s face for putting Finn through that.

But, what he did instead, was cross the trailer, slide down the wall to sit next to the increasing incoherent older boy, gather him up in his arms, holding him until the sobbing ceased, and thinking silently…

He was heaven.

Heaven.

A beautiful, dark haired angel…

Jack returned to the present just as the bathroom door opened, and his dark haired angel appeared in the doorway. His dark eyes were swollen, puffy and red from crying…

...he was still crying…

Jack wanted to deck the person who had made this beauty cry…

That was you, you fucking moron…

Yes, me and my stupid idea...clowns...what the hell had he been thinking!

Without thinking, without any hesitation, Jack held his arms out to the now quietly crying boy, and beckoned him over to the bed. Finn scooted around the travel bag on the floor, climbed onto the bed, and curled up in Jack’s embrace. They lay there silently for some time, neither caring to say a word about anything...all that was needed, was this warmth, this heaven. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

Neither Jack, nor Finn, not even Noah, had any inkling that somewhere in the desert of Nevada, there was a girl. A girl waiting.

And, she waited…

For that dark haired, dark chocolate eyed beautiful angel.

Finn.

Kryptonite. 

Heaven.


	3. Monsters

21 October 1:30 am

Dear Diary

No.  
Journal Entry For The 21st of October  
1:30 am

That’s more like it.

I’ve been out of school for ages, so nope, not a diary, a journal.

I knew I should not have gone there.

I knew it the second I saw the listings of the haunted houses along the route.

I knew it, the second I saw what would be in number seven.

House One: Vampires

House Two: Witches

House Three: Werewolves

House Four: Ghosts, Apparitions and Spirits

House Five: Zombies

House Six: Funeral Party

I am so stupid.

House Seven: Clowns

I hate clowns.

I fucking loathe them with a passion.

Ever since I was little, and my dads had hired a clown for my fourth birthday party, I feared, hated, loathed and despised them.

I remember that birthday party.

The 31st of October.

I turned four that year, and Dad #1 had decided to have a small party to mark that occasion complete with a huge cake, presents, balloons and…

A fucking clown.

I had never seen one up close before. I didn’t entirely know they existed, except on the TV, and even then I barely bothered with them.

Until that birthday.

Fucking clowns.

Monsters. Every last one of them.

Dad #1 thought having a clown to entertain the kiddos would be awesome. It would keep us occupied while all the parents stood about sipping cocktails and chatting.

It would have been awesome.

It should have been.

But, it wasn’t.

This particular clown had a cruel streak a mile long, especially when it came to very young children, and scaring them shitless was this one's particular specialty. Birthday girls were a rare treat.

Balloon animals.

Check.

Goofy dancing with the children.

Check.

Squirting flowers.

Check.

Jokes and more jokes.

Check and check.

Making the girl who is turning four that day the target.

Priceless.

We children giggled and laughed as this fool danced, sang and pulled long streamers of brightly coloured fabric from our ears.

It was all so magical for a brief moment.

Then he zeroed in on me.

I was the birthday girl

I had been his target the entire time.

I was only four years old.

I shouldn’t have had a care, or fear, in the world.

But, I was about to get one...fear, that is.

I fucking hate clowns.

Monsters.

This one zeroed in on me.

Got right in my face.

Monster.

I shouldn’t have panicked.

But I did.

He grasped my face in his huge red gloved hand and…

Snarled at me.

Called me such foul things, though at the time, I didn’t know what any of those words meant, it would be many years later that I would learn the meanings.

Little bitch.

Whore.

Slut.  
Abomination.

I was only four for fuck’s sake!

I started screaming.

Slowly, almost quietly at first, but soon that scream was heard by everyone within earshot, and quite possibly, a few who weren’t.

It was a scream of acute distress.

I was scared.

I was in distress.

It was not long before Dad #1 heard that scream, knew it was his child, and pushed startled parents, and equally started children, out of his way in a ferocious attempt to get to me.

I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

All the while this freak was still tightly gripping my face.

Dad skidded to a halt, and without a word, scooped me up into his arms and backed away from the object of my distress. His face was contorted in furious rage, and as he cradled me close to him, I could feel him shaking.

After that…

The rest of that memory is a hazy blur.

But that new fear of clowns?

Not so much.

No circus visits.

No birthday parties for fear there may be one there.

I never got invited to them anyway, so it never really mattered.

Flash forward.

I’m now eleven.

Happily going to the big mall with my dads and my big brother.

Happily that is, at the start of it.

We had spent the morning wandering in and out of the outdoor mall stores, buying things here and there, lunch at the food court, because why not. That’s what families do.

My brother, Diego, was just shy of his sixteenth birthday, and being bundled off to the mall with two dads, and a weird little sister, had not been his idea of fun.

But, he made the best of it. Letting me tag along to the bookstore, the candy store, Hot Topic and several other teenage places of interest.

Eventually, after one long browse through Hot Topic, we headed back to the food court where both dads were waiting on us. It was time to head home.

It should have been easy.

Just walk through the indoor courtyard and out the automatic doors.

No biggie.

Car not far from the exit.

Neither was the herd of clowns blocking the only exit at this end of the mall.

I heard them before I saw them. 

Then, I saw them.

I panicked.

I ran.

I was crying so hard, everything was a massive, wet blur.

I ran blindly from that.

Bouncing off people as I ran.

Crying now turned to full on sobbing.

My vision was so blurred by tears, that I couldn’t see where I was going.

I ran head on into someone.

I bounced off and landed in a heap on the cold, marble tiles.

I wiped my eyes, looked up…

I screamed.

And screamed.

That scream turned into a howling wail as I skittered backwards away from what towered over me.

It seemed like an eternity before my dads and brother came running to my rescue…

Dad #2 hauled me up off the floor and squished me to him, all the while dad # 1 was yelling at something, or someone.

But Diego...oh, I remember the look on his face…

He was embarrassed.

He was disgusted.

His weird little sister and her irrational fear.

I embarrassed him beyond belief.

I fucking hate clowns.

Monsters. Every last one of them.

Which is why, I should have known better.

You’d think by now, I would.

I do.

I went to the Haunted Manor Houses Tour.

I didn’t realise I was walking into the idiot trap.

I was halfway up the dimly lit dirt road, eyeing the houses as I passed. I had made my way through all but the last one.

God, I fucking hate clowns.

That’s when I saw them.

They stood just outside the fence that surrounded the seventh, and last, house along the route.

I should have left the moment I saw them.

Should have.

Didn’t.

I slinked my way up behind them, studying the house with acute loathing. At first, I didn’t recognise them.It was dark, after all, and seeing anything this far back from the semi-lit house was next to impossible.

They moved forward.

One of them did so hesitantly.

He was holding tightly to the boy next to him, gripping his hand. 

They moved forward again.

So did I.

Why, I don’t know.

I mean, I didn’t, until he turned around.

I did a double take.

Was I seeing him clearly?

I was imagining things?

Like imagining him?

Being in Las Vegas.

On this nutter of a haunted house tour.

Holding hands with…

Wait.

I know who they all are.

Ah, totally cool.

But I didn’t give a fig about the other two.

But, holding hands?

I mean, I’m down with that, you’ll get no shade from this bisexual clown hating freakshow.

Who was now about to step up to the trainwreck waiting to happen.

And by trainwreck…

I mean, Finn Wolfhard.

But this was all sorts of wrong.

All of it.

He was outside a fucking house....in fucking Las Vegas…

Holding fucking hands with Jack Dylan Grazier.

Holding fucking hands outside a fucking house full of fucking clowns in the middle of the fucking desert in fucking Las Vegas.

Get my drift here.

You see the tea I’m spilling.

I fucking hate Jack Dylan Grazier.

I fucking hate clowns more, though.

The three of them move forward again. So do I.

We’re now at the foot of the stairs that lead into the house.

I can hear those fucking things in there.

I’m close to panic mode now. Full on, straight the fuck up panic.

But, I keep following blindly behind him.

Them?

No, not them.

I’m not following the other two.

I’m following blindly behind Finn…

Who is also none too thrilled about this house.

He has a fear of clowns, too.

Just like me.

And yet, here we both are. Heading into a house full of those monsters.

He with friends. Me,alone.

We both must be stupid.

But, I’m still following him. 

Up the steps we go.

Him with a death grip on Jack.

Me?

I’m following him as if I’m being pulled along by an invisible string, and he’s holding it...pulling me ever closer to him…

...and to those nasty clowns.

We both fucking hate clowns.

Now, we’re inside the house.

All is kosher for awhile.

Not nearly as bad as I thought.

Rather a pathetic lot, but when aren’t they?

Last three rooms.

So far so good.

I’m going to make it out of here without going into panic mode.

Finn seems alright, too.

He’s actually left Jack’s side, and has started wandering on his own.

Hmmm….

You know the old saying, “if it’s too good to be true…”

The fucking universe was not about to let this go unchallenged...or,me...

Well, probably both of us.

But, mostly me.

Fucking clowns.

Monsters.

Creatures.

Nasty fucking scurge.

All four of us had just made it to the second to last room…

So far...

We rounded a dimly lit corner…

...so good…

And there it was,not a mere two feet in front of us.

Fucking clown.

It was obvious from the moment we saw this one, that it had a target...well, two targets.

One...me…

Two...Finn…

Except that’s not how this went down.

That fucker zeroed in on me as fast as it could.

Right into my face.

Nasty laughter.

Eyes wide and bulging.

Freakshow about to turn up for Finn Wolfhard.

In a very horrid way.

I started screaming.

I couldn’t stop.

It reached out and grabbed my face, holding on tightly,laughing evilly.

I screamed louder.

Out of the corner of my eye, much to my dismay, I could see Finn staring at me, lips parted, eyes wide…

That’s when the screaming turned into a howling wail.

And before I knew what was happening, Jack had yanked the fucking thing off me, and had body slammed him into the far wall.

I was still howling in distress when I heard the loveliest voice ever...right against my ear...a soft cooing sound...and the soft touch of his hand against my left cheek as he turned me to face him.

“You’re alright,sweetheart…”  
That should have calmed me.

Should have.

Didn’t.

I mean…

Finn looked as frightened as I did…

...how the fucking hell did he think he could talk me down from that cliff I was on?

Being as scared of these things as I was?

He held my face very gently in his hand, his thumb stroking ever so slowly against my skin, and continued that soft cooing against my ear.

And then…

The clown hating freakshow turned it up several notches for Finn Wolfhard.

It got weird. Fast.

I could still see the hated object of my distress. I could see that Jack was bodily holding him against the far wall. I could see Noah pacing around the room.

Then, I saw the second one enter the room…it came waltzing over to where Finn stood holding me...right the fuck up to us.

I felt the tremor go through Finn’s hand. It was so slight, but I felt it.

I started screaming again.

“Shhh…” he murmured.

I stopped screaming abruptly, my wide, fear filled eyes locked on his gorgeous dark chocolate ones.

“Shhh.” he cooed softly. “You’re alright. I’m here.”

Freakshow on turn up.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

I found my voice, which was now hoarse from screaming…

“You’re not here! You’re not real!” I whispered. “You can’t be.”

Finn tilted his head slightly, a faint look of worry etched over his beautiful face.

“No, I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“You’re not real...not real...this is wrong...you shouldn’t be here…” 

He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. 

It had to be pretty damn obvious that the girl he was attempting to soothe, was going seriously batshit crazy. Why else would she be acting this way?

I told you...trainwreck.

I’m a freak show, baby.

Step right up folks, and watch this walking, talking freak show lose their shit! And, an added bonus…

Right in front of Finn Wolfhard.

This freak show’s mega huge crush!

Freak show...meet freak show…

Entertainment guaranteed! Or, your money back!

“I’m as real as you are, beautiful…”

Looked me dead in the eyes when he said that.

He pressed his forehead to mine,cooing softly, thumb slowly tracing along my cheek.

“You’re safe with me.”

I had barely had time to register his words, when that second fucking clown appeared in my line of sight. I hovered just between screaming like a banshee or howling like a complete moron.

I only whimpered, eyes wide with fear.

Finn, my face still held tenderly in his hand, turned slightly and stared at the thing. He said absolutely nothing to it, and simply turned back to me.

I could see him shake himself. He took a deep breath, leaned in closer to me, his lips mere inches from my ear, and even with all the ungodly noises in that room, I heard him crystal clear.

“I’ll kill this fucking clown for you…”

I stared at him.

Richie Tozier?

What the ever loving fuck?

This isn’t the movies, Finn!

You can’t…

It’s a felony!

You’re from Canada!

This is America.

You’ll go to jail…

...and, you’re pretty.

I shook my head slowly

He either didn’t see me shake my head, or he did, and decided he didn’t care one way or the other. He let go of my face, tilted his head down, and without any warning for what he was about to do, he spun towards the clown, and plowed his fist into the thing’s face.

Not once, but twice.

It hit the wooden floor at his feet with a dull thump.

The other piece of shit, Jack and Noah, all stood with their mouths open, apparently even more shocked by this turn of events.

Finn never hit anybody.

Finn was sweet and gentle.

Who was this?

Sorry fellas, but there's no time to consider the possibilities of what had gotten hold of Finn.

Nope.

Because, this freak show had to turn up even more for her crush.

I started screaming again.

The sound seemed to startle Finn. He turned back to me…

I couldn’t read that strange expression on his face.

He’s so beautiful.

He raised his hand to my face. He never got the chance to touch me.

Step right up, Finn.

This is the freak show from hell.

You ain’t getting your money back for this trainwreck.

“You are not fucking real!” I bellowed at him.

He stared at me.

“Not real, not real!!”

He shook his head, the long dark curls bouncing with the motion.

I clamped my eyes shut.

“You’re not here, not here…I’ll open my eyes and it won’t be you.” I whimpered between deep gulps of air. “You shouldn’t be here…”

Finn brought his hand back up to my face. The soft caress of his fingertips...I would’ve killed to feel that…

But not now...not here...not while I was in the middle of a fucking full on freak out.

“Why shouldn’t I be here, baby?” His lips brushed against my earlobe.

I shuddered.

What was going on?

Had the universe got shitfaced and gone completely head over ass?

Or, was this simply put, one of my many nightmares that still happened every night since I was four years old?

And, if you haven’t guessed by now, Finn Wolfhard featured heavily in those nightmares.

Ever since I saw him in Stranger Things…

...then It…

Ever fucking since.

I opened my eyes and stared at him.

My face screwed up in contorted rage. He wasn’t expecting this.

I can’t say I blame him.

“You’re a fucking freak!” I screeched.

He stepped back so quickly from me, it was as if he’d been burned.

Perhaps he had.

I began edging away from him and towards the door opposite me. I was flat up against the wall. I never took my eyes off him.

“What?” His sweet voice was barely a whisper.

I glared.

“Freak show like me….”

“I…” he stumbled a bit.

No time for this.

“Welcome to the fucking freak show, Finn baby….”

He stared back at me.

“You’ll never be alone here.”

Trainwreck.

Massive scaled trainwreck.

The two weird things about this?

(Seriously?)

I might have imagined it.

Probably did.

But I don’t think I did.

I swear I saw him nod at this.

I swear he mouthed “I know. I’m home.”

I had to have imagined that bit.

And, the second thing?

I think I fell in love with him in that moment.

Imagine that.

One freak in love with the other freak.

What a happy fucking family freakshow we’d make.


	4. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all have secrets. Some of us want them to stay well hidden. In plain sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very, very explicit, smut filled chapter. 
> 
> So...as before, you have been given warning.

Too hell with journals.

I don’t need them.

I know some people do, and good for them.

I’m just not one of them.

I mean, seriously, if I allowed a journal to just float around, who knows what could happen. My every move is watched by so many people, keeping a journal would be suicide.

That’s why I use this tablet. It’s encrypted. Password protected. So well protected, even I have trouble getting in sometimes. I think my brother is getting really sick of having to drive over to my apartment at least four times a week to get me in it. 

Yeah, I don’t blame him for being sick of it. But what are you going to do?  
Can’t leave it unprotected. That would be utterly stupid.

Can’t just let my freak flag fly out in the breeze for everyone to see.

That would be really entertaining.

I mean, I’m a fucking celebrity for fuck’s sake!

Oh look, there’s a bit of my flag flying.

Yeah, swearing like a fucking pro!

Thank you Richie Tozier!

Who is this weird fuck? Yeah, I heard you ask that. Hell, I even ask myself that very same question at least a dozen times a day. No biggie.

Finn.

Finn Wolfhard.

That’s who I am.

Household name.

Stranger Things.

It.

The Goldfinch.

Remember that last one...it’s going to come up a lot in this...well, what my character in it looked like amongst other things about him...Boris Pavlikovsky. Mmmm, I absolutely adore him…*heart eyes* and *drooly face*

I believe he unfurled my freak flag for me. The moment I stepped into that character, I felt something stirring inside me. Something at the time I couldn’t identify.

Something snapped.

Pretty sure it snapped again after that trip to Vegas and the haunted house tour.

I went there with Noah and Jack.

Noah a close friend from Stranger Things.

Jack…

Also, a close friend from It.

He was quite a bit more, but that ended that night in Vegas.

Can’t really say I was all sad and weepy over it.

I wasn’t.

He was.

Oh well.

You’re probably thinking I’m a total asshat for throwing him over, and you’re probably right, but it was already nearing the end of its shelf life, so to speak, and neither of us needed it to continue.

I have numerous secrets.

My relationship with Jack was one.

Well, let’s be honest here, I’ve had a few relationships that are secret.

We’ll just leave it at that.

Cool, let’s move on. I’ve a lot to cover here, so let’s not dwell on any of that.

Anyway…

That night in Vegas was supposed to be three friends whooping it up while staying out of trouble(celebrities!) and just not caring about anything. Should have been.

Three guesses and you’re probably right.

We arrived in Vegas fairly early in the afternoon, checking into a pretty frightening motel just outside the city limits, then went for food and some fun.

Food we found. Fun, not so much.

I turned nineteen last year. Jack isn’t that far behind me, neither is Noah. Still, not much fun can be had if you’re in the under twenty-one party. 

So, after stuffing ourselves at a buffet, we headed back to the motel for some shut eye. We’d been on the road for several hours, so some kind of recharging was definitely needed.

I woke around eight pm, untangled myself from Jack, and yawning, made my way into the bathroom. 

Hmmm…

I wanna straighten the curls so badly…

Something snapped during The Goldfinch.

I want it a long, hot, stringy mess.

Like Boris.

Mmmm....

Looking at myself in the mirror, I can almost see him looking back at me. 

I always thought he was delicious.

But anyway…

I showered, stared at myself in the mirror some more, then dressed.

Tight black skinny jeans that hugged every curve I possessed and rode low on my hips.

Black t-shirt with some nondescript design that hung loosely on me.

Grey-ish black sport jacket. Also pretty damn loose fitting.

Black, beat up Doc Martens whose laces drug in the dirt.

Sound familiar yet?

It should.

That’s secret number two.

Which, if you haven’t guessed by now, is me turning back into my character from The Goldfinch.

Boris Pavlikovsky.  
*mega heart eyes and much drooling*

After reading my bits in the book, I fell head over heels in love with Boris.

With a fictional character? 

Yeah, totally in love.

So much so, that I dreamed about him. Well, I dreamed about the older version of him, because dreaming about what I was dreaming about would have been really weird...as the younger version, who is me so..

The older Boris was brought to life by the absolutely smoking hot Aneurin Barnard. *double heart eyes and drooly face* The first time I met him, oddly enough, was in Vegas.

(What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, eh?)

We had press shit to do for The Goldfinch, as well as my press shit for It with Jack, so I only saw him infrequently. Some of the cast for TGF got lumped together on stage for question and answer time, photos and whatever else they threw at us. 

And there he was.

Aneurin.

A smoking hot piece of art standing right there on that stage.

God, he made me quiver all over.

Oh look!

Secret number three is out!

I wasn’t the only one keeping this particular secret.

So was Aneurin.

I found that out several hours later back at the hotel we were staying in.

Oh man, it just got seriously hot in here.

More press, more photos, etc, etc.

Dinner.  
Hanging out, shooting the shit with my fellow cast members.

Suddenly, I find myself very much alone with that delicious, fine as fuck, piece of art in his hotel room. 

Yes,definitely hot in here.

As soon as the door was shut, he had me up against it, his lips inches from my ear, his lovely Welsh accent like butter…

“I want you, and I’m going to have you…”

I was quivering all over at those words.

“I’m going to have you all night long.”

Cue Finn bursting into flames here.

Had I not been up against the door,with Aneurin’s full weight pressed into me, I would’ve hit the floor fast. My knees had gone to jello at that point.

I was a hot, quivering mess.

I didn’t think I could be any more of a quivering mess, but…

Heh, I was so wrong.

Two things set that into motion.

One…

He slammed his mouth over mine and kissed me hard and deep. The second the tip of his tongue touched mine, I saw fireworks. His mouth was so warm, so wet and deliciously sweet. He could kiss the paint off the side of a fucking house!

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Two…

It’s what he said after he reluctantly stopped kissing me…

...his lips against my ear again…

That sweet, melodic Welsh voice whispering…  
“I’m going to have you. All night.”

This is the bit where I died a little…

“And once I’ve had you, baby boi, you’ll belong to me.”

Pretty sure I all but squealed with joy at this.

He smiled that beautiful smile at me. 

I uttered some kind of response. Not sure what I said. My brain was mush at this point. 

I don’t even remember when he had me naked and in his bed.

Don’t remember when he finally stopped teasing me and just fucked me.

Wanna talk about being a hot quivering mess…

He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to have me all night.

I was in his room by nine and when he finally finished ravishing me, it was nearly five in the morning.

I could barely stand, let alone walk…

But wait! There’s more!

I was his Baby Boi now.

Before he allowed me out of his bed, he had a gift for me…

Like seriously, what could possibly top the gift of him fucking me senseless for nearly eight hours?

More of the same?

I prayed that it was.

I wanted him so badly.

Is this what happens, when you were a virgin up until a year ago?

You get a taste for it and you suddenly turn into a whore?

Again, let’s be honest here...I’d whore myself to Aneurin Barnard any day of the week.   
What am I saying…

That’s exactly what I’ve been doing ever since that first trip to Vegas.

I’m his whore.

Ok, so that gift…

I’m playing with it as I type this...the little tag that dangles at the hollow of my throat...it states who I am the property of.

Property of Aneurin.

Sure you’ve guessed what the gift is…

Black leather bondage collar with a tiny lock at the back...I wear it 24/7...it even says Baby Boi on it.

I wear it proudly.

It’s like he had it planned the entire time.

Oh, but he did.

He put it around my neck...lock in place...he dangled the little key at me...only he could take it off.

And then…

He fucked me so damn hard, I was seeing moons and stars...fireworks...and that hot white heat behind my eyes…

The entire time he was fucking me, he was making it very clear who he was to me...he owned me now, I was his property...his whore, his slut.

His Baby Boi.

“Who am I?” he questioned with each hard, deep thrust.

At first I could hardly form complete sentences. My brain was overloaded, and I was too delirious with pleasure to even begin to try and speak.

“Who am I?” 

He grabbed my arms and pinned them above my head, pressing me hard into the mattress.

“I, uh, oh god…” I stuttered as one of his thrusts hit that sensitive bundle of nerves inside me.

“Baby Boi…”Aneurin whispered against my lips. “I own you.” Another deep thrust. I arched up so I could feel every hard, throbbing inch of him. “Who am I?”

That white hot heat was blinding me. My head was thrown back, lips parted, body on fire…

And he expected me to answer questions?

My god, he was fucking me so hard and deep, he was lucky I remembered who I was.

Even so…

I knew the answer.

I’d known it the second I laid eyes on him that day.

He waited.

I wanted to cum.

I wanted it so badly, I could taste it.

He thrust harder, hitting that now over sensitive bundle of nerves again and again...I tightened around that delicious cock if his, and came hard and fast. He soon followed...but first…

A second orgasm hit me…is that even possible?

...who are you?...

“My Master…” I cried out, arching up to get every inch of him inside me. 

“Mmmm…yes Baby Boi” he moaned, his own orgasm rocking him. I felt him explode.

Oh my god, it felt so damn amazing.

I don’t remember how I made it to my room.

I could barely walk.

I was fairly dripping with his seed.

How I never ran into anyone is beyond me.

I do remember the text message he sent later that day.

“You belong to me. No one else may have you without my express permission. My Baby Boi, my property, cannot be touched by anyone else.”

I, being the submissive little whore that I now am, happily agreed with that.

“Get rid of anyone else. I don’t share...unless I want to.”

So that meant I had to free myself from Jack.

Cue crazy Finn!

Jack doesn’t understand that Finn. Makes him nervous.

So…

Back to Vegas I went.

Jack and Noah.

Haunted Manors Tour.

I had two very specific instructions from my Master.

Rid myself of Jack.

And…

Find a new pet for the two of us.

A new toy.

Something beautiful.

Something just as much a freakshow as me.

Found our new pet in the fucking clown house.

Screaming her head off.

She’s a strong screamer.

It’s just that I don’t like it when she’s screaming in distress.

It hurts to hear that.

I just want to soothe her.

Calm her.

Make her feel safe.

Pet her.

She’s so tiny.

I don’t want to hurt her.

Aneurin...my, no our, Master arrives soon.

He wants to inspect our new pet before he stakes his claim. Before I am allowed to claim her.

Funny thing…

She ran out of that clown house.

When I came out, she was waiting for me.

I wanted her.

I’m not allowed yet.

I stood in front of her, breathing in her lovely scent.

She grinned slowly at me.

I think I love her already.

*snap, snap, snap*

“Hello…”

She grinned, a slight evilness to it.  
I didn’t know what she’d meant by I wasn’t real...that I shouldn’t be there…

Me? As in Finn?

Oh no…

I uttered something vague…

She pressed a finger to my lips, smiled slowly, and leaning in close to my ear, she whispered softly…making me quiver with desire...

“Shhh, Boris, is only me.”

*snap, snap, snap*

I can’t fucking wait to play with her.

As Boris, of course.

I told you something snapped that night.

Finn Wolfhard?

Nyah, my name is Boris.


	5. Secrets Part Two: Aneurin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another very, very explicit smut filled chapter.
> 
> Same warnings apply here.

It’s nearing midnight here. 

Where’s here, you ask?

Canada.

Quebec City, to be exact. Happily ensconced in a pretty swanky hotel type place. Private suite. No one bothers me.

I like it that way. The fewer people who bother me, the better. Better rest. Better conversations with my sweet(ha!) honey of a girlfriend, and well, anything else I care to get up to.

Or rather, whatever I care to get into.

Whoever I care to get into.

Ok, so you see I said girlfriend, and you’re stuck on the whoever part? Honestly, why?

Fine, let me elaborate on aforementioned girlfriend.

We first met when a no longer good friend of mine was “dating” her. And by dating, I mean he was simply there, and she was there, and all they did was argue. I hashtagged his idiot ass one night on Twitter with

#afteryourgirl

He apparently thought I was joking.

I was so not joking.

All they did was argue.

I rode his ass about treating her like dirt.

He didn’t get the message.

The hints went straight over his head.

So he introduced us one night.

When he wasn’t arguing with her, or treating her like she was stupid, she was quite nice. Pretty feisty, really. She gave him as good as she got. He did like to make her cry. That didn’t sit well with me. I hated him for it. Hated him for pretty much everything where she was concerned.

I asked for her number while he was away from his phone one night.

Was I after his girl?

You better believe I was.

He didn’t get that memo.

I hashtagged his fool ass again.

#gotyourgirl

And the rest was history.

He still brings her up every now and again. When I deem him worthy to talk to, that is. When I do, he harps on how I took her away from him, and that he still can’t see what she sees in me, and how I would like it if he did to me, what I did to him.

Blah, blah fucking blah.

#youlostfoolgetoverit

Now, she’s pretty cool. Into a lot of different things. A veritable freakshow. 

That’s why I love her so much. 

Well, it’s one reason I love her as much as I do.

We live in two different countries. I live in the United Kingdom and she lives in the United States. We’ve yet to meet face to face, and eventually we will(and just so you know,oh never mind,you’ll figure it out soon enough). 

That’s not a major concern for us right now. We are perfectly content and happy to orbit the way we do around each other...phone calls, texts, FaceTime etc, etc. It works for us. Though the time difference can be a bit of a bitch, we deal with it. If you love and care for someone, you make the sacrifices needed. Loss of sleep is one of those sacrifices both of us are willing to make.

That fool I took her from? Started out all willing to make sacrifices until he decided being a total twat was much better. She made numerous ones for him, even making excuses for his nastiness towards her. 

How could she think he even remotely cared for her?

“Oh Ni, Mathew’s just tired.”

Or,

“Ni, he wasn’t feeling well earlier, and that made him grumpy.”

So what? Poke it with a fucking stick! He wasn’t worth the time it took for you to make up excuses for him! He was being his usual nasty, bitchy self. He didn’t need excuses, he needed a fucking kick in the ass,with a high five to the face. With a chair.

But anyway…

Another reason I love her so much, is the fact that she allows me to do as I please, not saying much about what I’m doing, unless it’s pretty stupid and it’s going to get me fucking in trouble. Whoo boy, does she ever have something to say!

She’s drug me numerous times for my stupidity. And by numerous, I mean so many times, that I’ve actually lost count. And, she’s had every right to do so. I deserved her ire...I did stupid shit. 

Recently, I was the object of her infinite wrath.

Again, it was well deserved.

I can’t say what I did this time was just mere stupidity.

No, I went above and beyond just that.

Wait, that’s not right.

No, I went so fucking low, for a moment I thought I’d lost her.

That can’t happen.

She’s made numerous sacrifices. Given up so much...sleep, any sort of “normal” relationship, etc. 

I can’t lose her.

She’d probably do alright without me...I might even be alright without her. For a time. But then, I’d start missing our late night talks about everything and nothing. I’d miss her venting about her day, her job. I’d miss hearing her laugh hysterically at something I’ve said. I’d miss those even later nights of make up sessions after we’d disagreed. I’d miss soothing her when she was upset. I’d even miss talking her down off that ledge she sometimes ends up on. 

Damn it.

I’d miss her.

Wonder if she’d miss me?

I mean, she barely gives Mathew a passing thought now. Not unless he’s brought up for some asinine reason, and she feels the urge to rip him to pieces all over again.

Would she miss me?

I can’t bear to think about it.

So…

What did I do that earned me her wrath?

Well, let’s begin at the beginning, shall we?

No. No, I don’t think we will. It really doesn’t matter what the beginning is. It’s the end that really matters here. And, of course, the middle.

Her wrath?

Heh, that’s funny. I can’t really say she was angry at all. 

No, I can safely say she was anything but angry.

Vegas.

I told you she lives Stateside, and I live in the UK...Wales to be precise. 

She lives in Las Vegas, Nevada.

So, that’s where I was when I met, finally, a semi co-star in a movie we were both in. He played the younger version of the same character…

Boris Pavlikovsky.

I brought the adult version to life.  
We did the usual press junkets for the movie. Did the after parties. Did the shooting the shit with the other co-stars.

And then, I did him.

Oh I know you understand the ramifications of what that most certainly implies. It’s pretty obvious what I did. What we did that night in Vegas.

The same fucking city that my girlfriend lives in.

Well…

Perhaps I’ve not been completely honest here.

She wasn’t my girlfriend.

At least, not in the formal understanding of the word. She was so much more than just a mere girlfriend.

That collar around her lovely neck made that abundantly clear.

What’s that? How did she get that collar? Who put it on her?

I did.

She doesn’t travel much outside of the US, so when I need to be with her, I come to her. Sometimes we meet in New York. Sometimes in Los Angeles. More often than not, we reside in Vegas. 

Yes, you read that right.

We, she and I, live just outside The Strip. About twenty miles north of it, in a lovely desert oasis called Luna Verdi.

Green Moon.

Badr al-dine.

The house we chose is massive. It looks, at least from the view from the road, like it was built into the rock behind it. It wasn’t, but that’s neither here nor there.

It has nothing to do with any of this.

Nothing whatsoever.

Now, that delicious semi co-star of mine…

Finn Wolfhard.

And, the equally delicious love of my life…

Ivy Rose Dobrov.

My little Russian Doll.

How appropriate to this narrative that she’s Russian.

My character...Ukrainian who spoke Russian.

So why not get myself a sweet little doll who just so happens to be Russian?

Yeah, why not?

She’s a little freakshow.

Very tiny. Only 5’4”, fiery as fuck.

Oh, and she has a lifelong hatred of clowns.

The second I saw her, I knew I had to have her. Own her. And, I do. Except…

We met at a party. She was taking very large hits off a hookah filled with something called, White Empress...what I later found out to be a particular type of weed...and knocking back shots of vodka one after the other as if it was just tap water. 

(Remember, she’s Russian. Vodka is her drink of choice.)

I first laid eyes on her as she stumbled passed me headed to the kitchen behind where I was sitting. She didn’t seem to notice me at first, but as she swung passed me again, she turned slightly, nodded, and stumbled back to the hookah. She took a few more hits from it, shook herself, and suddenly turned back around to face me.

Those beautiful emerald eyes widened as the recognition bulb went off in her head. Those plump pink lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as she stared at me. She knew who I was. What seemed to elude her at that moment, was why Aneurin Barnard was present at this particular type of party.

My character was a whacked out crackhead so...call it character research, character development. Call it whatever you want to call it. She, on the other hand, didn’t quite know what to call it. She most likely figured I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, stumbled upon this gathering, and just decided to stay. We’ve not really discussed it fully. It just never comes up.

Anyway…

We just stared at each other. I watched her knock back a couple more vodka shots, take several more hits from the hookah, and she watched me just sitting on a barstool, slowly sipping at a really nasty beer. I neither looked like I belonged there, nor like I didn’t. I can blend easily into most situations. And on this particular evening, I blended quite well.

Sometimes, a certain character I’ve played will lend themselves to hiding among the rest of the freakshow. The most recent, as I’m sure you’ve guessed already, is Boris. The adult version of him, that is. His sense of dress...dark clothing, leather, long coat trimmed with a nice bit of fur, button down shirt, three buttons open, and...boots...well, I’ve heard them called ‘fuck me pumps,’ and I see no reason to disagree with that description...heeled, and most definitely Chanel(made in Cuba,how funny.). 

I fit in perfectly with this lot of vampires, witches, goths and, of course, addicts of every type. Boris was, among other things, pale as fuck(as I am, so vampire), not so much the witch type, but he was magical to many people(Theo, for sure. Ha!), goth as fuck(perhaps in his younger years, but still he carried that with him always).

And, as an adult?

He was, is, a drug dealer, as well as a user.

So yes, I blended in with this freakshow easily.

I was lost in these thoughts, and never knew when she had crossed that room to stand in front of me. Eventually, I realised she was there.

“‘Cuse me, er, are you lost?”

My god, what a delicious voice she has! Very good English, but with a delightful Russian accent…

I definitely had to have her.

I was about to.

Boris Pavlikovsky comes in handy.

Time to stop here…

...things to do...people to do…

God, I love my secrets.


	6. Meeting Borya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as always.

As soon as he opened the door, the ungodly screaming started. It did not let up, until he was safely beyond the crowd and headed in the direction of the pool area. There, as he knew well, it would be quieter and far fewer people would be hanging around.

“Mister Wolfhard?” 

For a moment he was unsure of who they meant. He turned slightly towards the raspy voice, stared at them for a second, then shook himself.

“Yes?”

The older man stared back at him. A confused look had crossed over the man’s face.

“This way, please.” He swept his arm out towards the pool.

Finn grinned faintly.

“Oh, of course. Sorry, long day.”

Why was he apologising?

He didn’t need to.

He didn’t have to.

So, why was he?

He shook his head.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The man eyed him curiously.

“No worries, Mister Wolfhard. Quite understand. These shindigs are tiresome at best, and a real nightmare all the other times.”

Finn nodded.

That was true.

Still…

“You’ve no idea. Just wish I didn’t have to be at this one. The sooner it’s over, the sooner I can leave.” Finn said in an effort to move the man along faster.

Again, the man eyed him with curiosity.

“Mmk, understandable, sir. Can’t be all that much fun for someone your age.”

Finn bristled a bit at this.

“Oh?”

“Yes, these things are terrible for someone under twenty-one. You can’t drink. Can’t hit the casinos even. The parties must be pure torture.”

“Can’t say I’m upset over it.” 

The man shrugged at this.

“Really? I’d have thought you’d be rather bored by everything. Vegas really isn’t for those under twenty-one these days.” He stopped, herded Finn into the pool area, then shrugged again. “Can’t say it’s ever really been that. But, I’m sure you’ve found something entertaining to do while here. He looked Finn up and down, a strange look settling across his fake tanned, definitely botoxed, face. “Not saying someone like you couldn’t find amusement here.”

Finn studied him for a moment.

“Excuse me? Someone like me?”

“Yes, our kind always find something in Vegas. We’re not San Francisco mind, but we do in a pinch.”

Did this fool say that?

How dare he!

“I’m not sure I know what you mean…”

The man had already started back the way they had come. He turned, grinned and winked suggestively at Finn.

“Our gay community is fairly large, definitely not the size of other cities, but a good sized one in its own right. You’ll feel right at home here, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve other clients to attend to.”

With that, the man hurried off, leaving Finn gaping open mouthed at him.

This unnerved him greatly.

But…

At the same time, he felt another stirring inside him…

Borya.

Boris.

He looked at his clothes, his boots…

...he smiled slowly.

His dark hair...always a force to be reckoned with on a good day, was today, simply out of control. It seemed unsure what it wanted to do...would it be an unruly, curly mess? A long, stringy mess? It seemed to him, when he had oogled himself in the mirror that morning, that it would be a combination of both, and way out of control.

He smiled more.

His paleness shocked people. Always had, but ever that movie, he’d become ever paler. Went into a hospital puking his guts out, and when he’d emerged, he was so white, he glowed.

Hence, his new title…

Glowing Russian Vampire. That one made all the girls, and quite a few guys, quiver with hot, unabashed desire.

It went right along with the other one...well, the numerous others…

Slavic Androgynous Bette Davis was a favourite of his fans.

Oh, and the newest?

Scream Queen and Murder Baby.

He laughed maniacally at this.

“Finn? You alright, yes?”

Finn’s hysterical laughed stopped abruptly.

That voice…

He turned around and there she was.

Oh…

He shivered.

Borya was awake.

Finn nodded.

“Perfectly fine. Never better.”

The girl nodded. She adjusted her sunglasses, looked up at the sky, and muttered softly.

“Is heat too much? You could go inside, better there.” Again she nodded.

Russian?

Wait, what…

Had she always had that accent?

That night at the clown house had not been conducive to picking up accents. She had, after all, been doing nothing but screaming, crying, wailing and yelling...he just hadn’t had the chance to listen to her properly.

She looked at him, waiting…

“Heat is always too much…” he answered finally. “I’m from Canada. We don’t do heat.”

She chuckled softly.

“Neither do I.”

“Oh?”

She chuckled more.

“Russia...never hot, always cold. Same in Ukraine. Always bitter cold, even when Summer.”

Finn eyed her thoughtfully.

“Why Vegas?”

“Is crazy, yes. Vegas big desert! Always so hot, but I come here anyway.” She grinned slyly, pointing at herself. “I’m Eleanya Alexandrina Ivyana Dobrev.”

Finn’s mouth opened slightly.

“Come again?”

She laughed.  
“Ivy, or Ivy Rose, for short. Is easier for Americans.” She smiled at him. ”And, Canadians.”

“Oh, I see. Well yeah it is but...your full name is very pretty, a mouth full, but pretty.”

“Most will not stoop low enough to try and say it…”

“That’s awful.”

She shrugged.

“Can do nothing about it.”

Finn shook his head at this.

“It’s your name, they have to use it.”

“Is my name, yes. I do not force anyone to use it. People do not like being forced into things. Nyah.”

He nodded.

“Hmmm…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m…”

She tilted her head, her emerald gaze steady on his face.

“Borya.” She said firmly.

It was not a question...it was a fact…

That’s how she said it.

“Finn.” he corrected.

“Nyah. You are Borya.” 

He stared at her.

“How did you...I mean, only one other person besides myself, knows…?”

Ivy laughed softly.

“Is simple, Borya. I know, because I can see it with my own eyes. He has become you and you are allowing it…”

Finn sighed.

“It can’t be that simple, Ivy.”

“Well no, there is another way I know. Simple would be too easy, Borya.”

“And that is?”

“Badr al-dine. You and he are the same.”

“Me and Boris? Yes, but…”

She laughed again.

“Is not Borya I speak of! Nyah...I speak of the one we both answer to. He is also Badr al-dine. Is also Borya.”

Finn’s dark chocolate eyes widened.

“I don’t…”

“Aneurin.”

Finn nearly fell over when she uttered the name.

“How do you know of him?” 

“Easy, Borya. I have been his pet for a year now.” She pointed to the black leather collar that graced her slender neck. “You? It has only been a couple months, yes?”

When he just stared wide eyed at her, she laughed and continued on.

“We, you and I, are his pets. His playthings, toys…”

“Uh…”

“Submissives, yes.” She tilted her head. “There is something you have yet to tell me, Borya?”

Finn shook his head vigorously.

“No. I mean, maybe...I don’t know!”

Ivy’s eyes narrowed.

“Is easy to answer, Badr. You, as pale and delicate as you are, do not just turn up in a desert without your umbrella.” She reached out and touched his hand lightly. “There is a reason. What is it?”

“Aneurin sent me.”

She nodded.

“Mmm, yes I know. Is a fact that I was already privy to, Badr.”

Finn muttered softly.

“Oh?”

She nodded.

“Just as I knew he wanted you.”

Finn’s mouth formed a perfect O.

“You knew?”

“Yes.”

“And why did he tell you he wanted me?”

She blushed slightly at the question.

“We both wanted you, Borya. Three is always so much fun. I was first, of course.”

“I see. How did Aneurin find you?”

Ivy laughed.

“Oddly, he found me at a party. I couldn’t figure out why he was there. I, hitting the hookah and knocking back vodka shots. He sitting there watching me. He owned me a few hours after that.”

“You fucked that night?”

“Yes.”

“Awfully fast.”

She glared at him.  
“And, with you it wasn’t? Same day. Dinner and drinks with the others. He had you within minutes of you entering his room. He took me many hours later.”

“Yes, but…”

“Wanted me sober first.” She looked him up and down slowly. “You? Easy.”

Finn bristled at this.

“I’m not easy!”

“Nyah. Of course you are not, Borya. Play hard to get. Make the Master work for what you offer. High price, perhaps? Not cheap like others.”

“Wait, what?!”

“High class.”

Finn couldn’t form any words for this.

“You are a queen. Or…” She smiled slowly, tapping her chin. “What is it they call you? Ah yes, Slavic Androgynous Bette Davis. Yes, a queen. Now, as for being so pale...you forget umbrella? Useful in desert, Borya. Glowing Russian Vampire.” She smiled more at this. “Is good name! I do like it.I think I’ll call you mine…”

“Huh?”

“You Borya, Badr al-dine...moonlight, very glowy. You’ll be my Glowing Russian Vampire.”

“I don’t get…”

“You are the moon. Vampires are guided by moonlight.”

“That I understand. But, Russian?”

“Yes. My Russian Vampire.”

“But, I’m Canadian, Ivy.”

“So? Our Master is Welsh…”

“And you, are actually Russian.” Finn pointed out.

“Not just Russian. Ukrainian, too. Like real Borya. I have two. Both different...Welsh...Canadian. You and our Master, yes. This is what I have. What you have is me and I’m not just a Russian Doll…”

He grinned.

“Russian Doll. Mine?”

She shrugged.

“If you wish me to be. I belong to Aneurin first and foremost.” She shrugged again, a slight pink tinged her pale cheeks. “But, I am allowed to have a secondary, uh…is not a master, I have one of those...no, something else.”

Finn didn’t know what word she was looking for, so he remained quiet. After a lengthy silence, she finally found what she was looking for.

“Prince. Aneurin is the Master, our King…”

“That makes you the Queen.”

Ivy laughed.

“Perhaps so, but that is not how it works. I am a pet, submissive...you would be my Prince.”

Finn rolled his eyes at this.

“You also called me a ‘scream queen.’”

“Is true! You have been in many things that are scary…”

He laughed.

“Yes, though The Goldfinch wasn’t scary.”

“Stranger Things?”

“Scary.”

“It?”

“Both movies, scary.”

She puzzled over something for a moment.  
“Ah, and the latest one?”

“The Turning?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Yeah.”

“So, is scary, Borya?”

“Yeah,very scary.”

She nodded.

“So scary, that you might need someone to cuddle with while watching it…”

“I would?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“And why would I need that?”

Finn smiled brightly.

“You know, you might get scared and need someone to protect you from the monsters.”

Her emerald eyes widened at this.

“Monsters?”

“Well, not monsters, but ghosts and that sort of thing.”

“I would just put on the lights, Borya. Wouldn’t be scared at all, then.”

“Leaving the lights on won’t keep you safe, babydoll.” 

He threw the line out as if it were an everyday thing. As if it was his particular pickup line...but one that never worked at all.

She squeaked softly.

“No clowns? Please say no clowns.”

“No, no clowns. And, if there were any, I’d protect you…”

“But…”

“Just like I said I would that night at the clown house.”

She shuddered.

“Is bad, those fucking clowns. Do not like them! Scurge all of those nasty things. The Master keeps them away…”

“Keeps clowns away from you?”

Ivy shook her head quickly.

“Nyah! Not the clowns, the nightmares. He holds me at night. No nightmares. Does not hold me, horrible nightmares...they are of you, Borya. Always about you. And, of course, clowns...ugh!”

The smile that had been plastered on his face, faded quickly. He dropped his bag on the ground at his feet and held his arms out to her.

“Come here, babydoll.”

She didn’t move at first, but soon she folded herself up in his embrace. It was tight, comforting and warm.

He rested his cheek against the top of her head...not too difficult a thing to do, considering he was quite a bit taller. He smiled warmly as he stroked her burgundy hair with one hand, and her back with the other. She sniffled softly.

“Shhh, babydoll, is only me.”

She grinned against his chest.

“Borya.”

That was the pickup line of the century.


	7. False Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn really knows how to spin a good story.
> 
> Or, does he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest chapter...like ever...but, there is a reason for that...

25th of October, 9:52pm

Entry Number 30

Everything you just read is false.

With one exception.

I am him and he is me.

Everything you just read is false.

Here’s what really happened.


	8. Luna Verdi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn is going to tell you the real story, right?
> 
> Right.

26th October, 10:00pm

Entry Number 31

New Mexico

My name is Finn Wolfhard.

Everything I wrote before this…

Was false.

The events I depicted in the first six entries never really happened.

Well not everything.

My hatred of clowns: that’s very true.

Me turning back into Boris Pavlikovsky: also very true.

Everything else?

Made up. False. Not true.

That’s not what the actual story is about. That’s not what I planned.

It all seemed like a good idea. At the beginning. But, as everyone knows, the best laid plans…

Still, it would have worked.

Should have worked.

Unfortunately…

It didn’t.

I think we should start at the beginning, the real beginning…

I should have known better.

Beep, beep Finn…

I wanted to run away.

I wanted to get as far from my crazy, fucked up life, as I could possibly get.

That meant leaving Vancouver(Canada).

But, where to go?

Google, as always, provided me with a plethora of destinations. 

Nevada.

No.

Though I would have a quick stop in Reno, I would not be staying.

Seattle.

Also a no.

I pulled up a map of the United States, closed my eyes, ran my finger over a map I now couldn’t see, and hoped for the best. Whatever place my finger stopped on, is where I’d go.

New Mexico. Luna Verdi to be exact.

Just great...just my fucking luck…

If any of my fans remember, and I’m sure some do, it was while in New Mexico that I ended up in the hospital, puking my guts out because my stupid ass ended up dehydrated. That was during the filming of The Goldfinch…

Go into the hospital, stay for a bit, come out…

Ghostly pale!

White as a fucking sheet!

Do keep him out of the sun.

He’s literally glowing!

Here’s your umbrella, baby!

That was in Albuquerque. My finger landed on a place called Luna Verdi, which is approximately fifteen miles southwest of Albuquerque…

I heaved a heavy sigh. No matter how far, or which direction it is, Luna Verdi is still in the fucking desert. Hot as fuck. One hundred and ten degrees in the fucking shade no matter where you sit. 

Well, it couldn’t be helped. Google, my closed eyes and finger jabbing, had picked my destination, and as I am bound and determined to run away, it looked like I was headed back to the fucking desert.

So…

New Mexico is one thousand five hundred and eighty five and a half(seriously? One half mile? What was the point in even tacking that on there?)miles from Vancouver, which is Canada, not the State of Washington. I would be travelling by Greyhound bus via Reno, Nevada, and the entire trip would take forty one hours and twenty one minutes, give or take any stopping along the way.

I had to be crazy. I was going by public transportation(where someone might recognize me for fuck’s sake)back to the one place(the fucking desert) where I’d nearly shuffled off the mortal coil because I was severely dehydrated and apparently stupid as fuck(but damn it, I fucking glowed!).

Yes, I was crazy. Yes, I was going back to New Mexico.

Why? Because Google and my finger said so, that’s why.

Could I have picked a different place? Oh sure, but where is the fun in that? I mean, spending countless hours in a hospital hooked up to an IV and other fun things, really is living the life, right?

Right?

Right.

That afternoon I bought a one way bus ticket to Luna Verdi, New Mexico(which, oddly enough, had a bus terminal…)from the background on the place, it’s pretty small...population two hundred and seven souls...and not much else. But, it had a bus terminal and a Walmart. Go figure.

Ah yes, it was perfect!

I’d leave my crazy life in Vancouver...where everyone and their grandma knew me. No more scripts to read, no more roles to play, no modelling gigs to fulfil. Nothing! Peace and quiet. Resting and relaxing is definitely on this menu.

Actually, in reality, I was just wanting to hide from everything and everyone.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. No really, I do. I love my career. I love my family. I even adore all my fans. It’s just that lately, I’ve been wanting to run away from everything. To get lost somewhere that no one would know who Finn Wolfhard is. You know, pretend I was someone else…

(Boris Pavlikovsky)

So, after buying a bus ticket, and checking my passport, I set about packing all that I would need. I wouldn’t be taking much with me, as I planned to buy everything else I might need in Luna Verdi. I did, however, pack the essentials...toothbrush/toothpaste, deodorant, brush/comb, a few changes of clothes(mainly stuff that Boris would wear), an extra charger for my phone, my tablet(which I’m currently writing this on), numerous snacks and bottles of water. Everything else would be bought once I arrived in Luna Verdi and, eventually, settled in somewhere.

Oh, and I packed a fucking umbrella. You know, so I could keep that gorgeous glow of mine.

Also, after buying my ticket, I set off to my bank. Now, as I’m sure you know, I don’t often do my own banking. I have an accountant that does all that, which makes everything so much easier for me on a daily basis. But, being as I’m running away(from my responsibilities? Problems?), I would need to do this on my own. 

Off to the bank I went. Once I had all the money I needed(my bank card and credit cards would only be used once I had a semi permanent home, and for things I didn’t have enough cash for)and had given the bank the information they needed for the use of my bankcard/credit cards(in other words, yes I would be the one using them in a place called Luna Verdi, New Mexico...and quite possibly, Albuquerque...and no, no one had stolen any of those cards...I mean, unless you count me, but that’s nothing to do with this story), I left feeling rather satisfied with myself. I still had a few hours to kill before my bus left, so I meandered around the city, grabbed a quick bite to eat, hit up Starbucks and finally made it home. I wrote out the note to my family, stating quite clearly that being nineteen years old, I was more than old enough to travel where and when I felt like it. I had my own money(eventually, I would come into the trust accounts, but not until I was twenty one), knew my own wants(sort of) and needs(barely), and had definitely thought this completely through(uh yeah,no)before just running off without another thought(that is definitely true).

They would not be happy about me doing this, but as I said in the note, I’m nineteen...I’m an adult(that’s strictly debatable), and I could handle myself. It was, after all, time for me to go out on my own. Leave the parental nest...fend for myself....keep my own hours and do as I pleased. What I didn’t put in the note...I would most likely not be coming back anytime soon. If at all, really. They were not going to accept any of that nonsense in the note, but that was of no concern to me now. It was time for me to go.

I folded the note carefully, stuck it on the message board in the kitchen where I knew it would definitely be seen, grabbed my carry on(the one small wheeled bag was waiting at the door), and took one last look around the house that I called home for nineteen years.

It almost made me rethink this plan of mine.

Almost.

I fought back the tears that had welled up in my eyes, swallowed the growing lump in my throat, took another look around, and headed to the front door. I could see the taxi waiting at the curb, and not wanting to make them wait any longer(especially, since there was one stop I needed to make before the bus terminal...yet another note, this one to my brother), I opened the door, squinting at the brightness.

I hauled my wheeled bag out the door, setting it at my feet. For a moment, I stared at the keys in my hand, unsure of what I was about to do next. I took the house key, as well as my car key fob(you know, I probably could’ve just drove to New Mexico…), off the keyring and deposited them in the crystal dish by door(it locked automatically behind you). I stood there, my hand holding the now much lighter keychain...once I shut this door, there would be no going back…

I didn’t realise, not at the time, how true that thought was.

I would never be going back. Ever.

Especially not after what I became.

I shut the door and walked to the taxi.

Got in.

Ran away from one life…

...boarded a Greyhound bus to a little place called Luna Verdi, New Mexico.

Forty one hours and twenty one minutes later…

I wish I could say I made it to Luna Verdi...I really do…

I didn’t.


End file.
